Pancakes Mean Love
by CeliaEquus
Summary: The prequel to 'Always the Last Place You Look'. It's Phil Coulson's birthday, and Bucky, tied up in knots over his unrequited love for the birthday boy, makes him breakfast in bed. Are his feelings all that unrequited, though? Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers, or any other Marvel thingummies, nor am I making money from this.


"Pancakes Mean Love"

There was a distinct sizzling and the accentuated aroma of chocolate as James 'Bucky' Barnes poured the first spoonful of mixture into the frying pan. He really was getting the hang of it. He'd been practising this recipe for a couple of weeks, with Steve's help. Now that he was doing it without his best friend, he was never more grateful for Stark's all-seeing AI to give him advice and to supervise.

"It's hard to tell when they're cooked, since they're already brown," Bucky said as he poured more pancake batter into another part of the pan.

"I am monitoring them carefully," JARVIS promised.

"Thanks, buddy."

Letting them cook, Bucky returned the milk and butter to the fridge, and the dry ingredients to their respective cupboards. He slipped back to the stove as soon as JARVIS told him the pancakes were ready to be flipped. That done – and breathing a sigh of relief – Bucky arranged fruit, syrup, and cream on a tray. He made another batch of pancakes, the finished ones on a warm plate. He added cutlery and a glass of water to the tray, kind of glad that he'd decided against a flower in a vase. There wouldn't have been room for it, and it would have made his feelings too obvious.

"They are finished, sir," JARVIS said. Bucky scooped the rest of the pancakes onto the warm plate, and placed it on the tray.

"I'll be back soon to wash up," Bucky said, lifting the tray with steady hands. The last thing he needed was to have to do this all over again just because he dropped everything in a fit of nerves; and he sure as hell didn't want to explain himself to the others.

JARVIS opened doors without being asked, including the most important one. Bucky cleared his throat, and was surprised he didn't come face to face with a gun. It was a good surprise; at least, he hoped so. JARVIS gradually increased the lighting, and the figure on the bed began to stir.

Bucky thought it was adorable the way Phil's face scrunched a bit as something woke him. The moment he realised that he wasn't alone, his eyes sprang open, and he twisted around as he sat up, hand already going for the revolver under his pillow. When he recognised Bucky, he relaxed.

"Can I help you, Barnes?" he asked. Bucky swallowed down his nerves.

"Happy birthday, Agent Coulson," he said, and he held out the tray. Phil must have been exhausted from yesterday if he hadn't noticed it sooner. His gaze flicked from the tray up to Bucky's eyes.

"How did you know it was my birthday?" he said. Bucky opened his mouth. "Never mind. I'd rather not know which of the dozen or so possibilities…" He trailed off, and sighed. "Any reason for the tray?"

"It's… it's breakfast. In bed. Because of your birthday. JARVIS supervised it, and I haven't had long to practise… I mean, not that I did too much, since it's just… it's for your birthday," he finished, trying not to sound miserable. He'd never tried this much for a dame; but then Phil Coulson was something else altogether. Right now, he actually looked surprised, but he sat up properly. Bucky ventured forward, holding out the tray hesitantly. Phil smiled his gentle smile, and Bucky nearly dropped the whole thing. He hurried to place it on Phil's lap.

"I know you don't have coffee until after breakfast," he said. "The water's for your meds."

"Ah, yes," Phil said, grimacing slightly as he looked at the boxes on his bedside table. Bucky could have kicked himself for giving the agent such a tactless, thoughtless reminder. "This is very kind of you, Barnes."

"You could call me Bucky. It won't kill— I mean, I don't mind." Bucky winced. "Just for today, at least?"

Phil nodded. "Very well, then. Thank you, Bucky. How did you know that chocolate pancakes are my favourite?"

"Just a lucky guess," Bucky said, shrugging. It wasn't entirely true; but he didn't want Phil to know how much effort he'd put into finding out. He didn't want to look like a stalker.

"Very good guess." Phil's eyes fluttered shut as he chewed on a piece, and then swallowed. He looked dazed. "God, these are good." He glanced up at Bucky. "Want to share? They're… truly amazing."

Before he could start blushing too badly, Bucky shook his head. "Gotta do the dishes. I'm glad you like them. Didn't know what to get you, and we've only known each other a few months." Not that it took Bucky all that long to fall hard, apparently. "I'll come get the tray after you're done. Want a coffee?"

"Clint and Natasha take care of my birthday coffee. According to my sources, it involves a long argument at the nearest coffee shop, ending in a Rock-Paper-Scissors duel or a thumb war. They like to get something different each year, but they can never agree on what."

"Okay." Bucky scratched behind his left ear. "I'll, uh, see you soon. Enjoy your breakfast. Oh! Did you want ice cream with—"

"No, this is good," Phil said. "It's perfect." He cocked his head as he continued to study Bucky. Now the former Winter Soldier knew what it was like to feel naked while fully clothed.

"Don't let it get cold," he said in a rush, and hurried from the room. He didn't look back; if he did, he would end up giving everything away.

It was time to regroup.

* * *

Phil was pleasantly warm inside by the time he had finished the last piece of pancake with fruit and cream. He set the tray on the bed beside him, careful not to spill the water, and took his pills. In hindsight, he should've taken them first. At least having water between breakfast and brushing his teeth would lessen the shock of the taste difference.

He considered James Barnes. It was only a few months since Steve and Natasha had brought him in, but they spent a considerable amount of time together. Phil was in charge of rehabilitating him, just as he had been with Steve (after Manhattan, while the soldier kept hovering around during his recovery). In some ways, Bucky was even less familiar with the twenty-first century than Steve, for all that he had been 'active' during many changes.

After Phil had made it clear that Bucky's flirtatious manner wouldn't work on him, and they settled into a professional working relationship – or something close to it – things went quite smoothly. He never expected breakfast in bed, and wondered vaguely whether it was partly Bucky's way of saying thank-you for all the help Phil had given him.

He was basking in the afterglow of excellent pancakes, having scooped up a few crumbs so that it could last a little while longer, when Bucky returned.

"Did you like them?" he asked. If Phil didn't know any better, he could have sworn that Bucky appeared to be shy. It was ridiculous (and cute, Phil realised to his horror).

"Very much," he replied evenly. "You'll have to show me how to make them sometime. If you want to."

Bucky nodded as he moved forward. Phil twisted around to pick up the tray, but the soldier beat him to it, leaning over his body. Phil's head jerked back when he noticed their close proximity, and stared as Bucky went to straighten, server in hand. His breath caught (silently, thank God) as their eyes met. They were almost nose to nose. His pulse raced, and he clenched the sheets in his hands, praying that Bucky wouldn't see through his poker face or, God forbid, notice his whitening knuckles.

"Thanks," he said hoarsely. Mortified, he cleared his throat. "Thank you, Bucky. I'll be out in a minute."

Bucky looked quietly amused as he stood up. "Relax, Phil. It's your birthday. You won't be called into work for anything short of an apocalypse; Fury promised."

"That's a first," Phil muttered, a small voice in his head shouting at him to calm the fuck down.

"We're all pretty persuasive," Bucky said. Standing just by the door, he winked at Phil, and the agent's heart performed an unanticipated somersault. "Take your time. I'm… I'm glad you liked your birthday present."

He disappeared quickly, the cutlery on the tray barely rattling. Thinking over the last half-hour, it was just as well.

Phil had never been more rattled in his life.

He appeared to be falling in love with Bucky Barnes.

* * *

**Ah, smeg it. I'm ending it there.**

**As stated in the summary, this is the prequel to 'Always the Last Place You Look', since some people were curious about what might have been going on between Bucky and Phil before the events in that fic. This is the pancake scene referred to.**

**Please review!**


End file.
